Slave
by ArikaPhantomess
Summary: Welcome to the last chapter.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- This is my fic. I haven't written for a while and this has been a long project although I don't expect this story to be very long. I hope you like it but if you don't, you can always write me a review and tell me, at length, exactly why you find it so distasteful. I promise my feelings won't be crushed. I also clear up any confusion in plotlines and characters. That said, enjoy.

xXx

Lord Vader was busy attending other matters. Several important meetings had not taken place because of the carelessness of one man running a café. Two more men had found their way into the garbage disposal on a certain floor; that makes six this week. Quickly, all of them had to be shut off while the men were fished out and now someone lost the key that turns them back on; it's probably sitting on a counter in the kitchens somewhere. To top it off, a supply ship was scheduled to dock today and it is several hours late. Vader made a note never to contact _Verrifast Shipping_ again; the first one they sent was filled with opera costumes. Every now and again, he'd find part of a frilly sleeve or something hanging out of a door. Most of the time, he would ignore it, but this is not about the punctuality, or accuracy, of the modern shipping industry. This is about the girl.

She is almost literally a godsend. The girl was always on top of things, even the things he hasn't thought of yet. Everything is pristine. She is good with most machines and can keep everything electronic running in Vader's quarters. When he needs her, she is at his elbow in an instant, but he usually doesn't need to call her because she seems to be very good at anticipating things. He always returns to whatever he is doing to find papers stacked and little things put away. He is certain that there are a hundred other tasks she performs that he doesn't know about. Everything she does is like wonderful magic, but there is a slight something that disturbs him.

So far, she has not said a word to him. Generally, she takes her task, moves about it as quickly as possible and then disappears; quite literally, as far as Vader is concerned. One moment she is there, the next, it could take him an hour to find her if he didn't need her. He is fairly certain that she is not a mute, but at the moment he would stake anything on it. She has never smiled. She has never frowned. In fact, she hadn't shown any sort of emotion in the least since her purchase a few months ago. She always wore a blank expression that left absolutely no hint of what lay beneath, like a mask. He nearly laughed at the thought of his own 'mask' which was just as equally devoid of emotion.

Quite suddenly, Vader became aware of another person in the room who, so far, had not made any noise. He supposed that it was the girl. Just to see what she would do, he pretended not to notice that she was there. Absentmindedly, he signed the form in front of him and listened to the movement behind him. It had stopped. Was she gone? He swiveled around to see.

It was one of his officers. He stiffened in surprise, but thankfully the man couldn't see for the heavy armor. Vader firstly berated the man for entering his chambers without announcing himself and then quickly dealt with the business the man brought. Irritated, he turned back to the form. Now that he read it through, he realized that he had just approved an official request for all of the bolts in the lavatories to be stripped so that new hairdryers could be installed. Vader speculated about who on Tattooine could possibly have approved new hairdryers in the first place before remembering that it most likely would have been himself and would have slapped himself if it didn't hurt his hand so much. He heard a floorboard creak somewhere a ways behind him. Wondering what the devil the silly man wanted now and why on earth did he never announce himself, Vader wheeled around.

He made a strangled noise in his throat. There she stood; eyes on the floor. Long after his shock wore off, he stared at her, wondering what she could possibly want. She barely came up to his chest. She was so thin his forefinger could have lapped his thumb around her wrist up past the second knuckle. Thin... oh, hell. She had to eat. It had been so long since food passed his lips that he completely forgot about the needs of a normal human being. _Mental note: make sure 'hired' help does not starve and perish._

He nodded his head at her and then realized that since she wasn't looking directly at him, she obviously couldn't see his nod. He was going to say something, but apparently, she did see his nod for she then raised her own head and looked at his face; or where his face should have been. Her eyes were the first thing he truly took in. Not for their dazzling ability to steal a man's heart in two bats of an eyelash, nor for their emanating resplendent beauty that radiates the exquisite soul within; no, these eyes were, in fact, the exact opposite. Vader felt a bit like he was staring into two blocks of ice, minus the sensation of cold. He shuddered inwardly and quickly looked somewhere else. After he got past her eyes, he discovered that the rest of her face was actually quite pleasant. Her lips, though a bit pale, were thin and suited her thin, pointed face. In fact, most things on her face were thin; her eyebrows, her nose, her cheekbones, all were very thin. Perhaps thin was not the correct word, he thought to himself while peering at her very intently. Delicate. Delicate was the right word. Her entire body was put together to appear delicate; from her long and thin fingers to her pointed, pretty face.

Satisfied with his linguistic triumph, he quickly took in everything else about her. Her brown hair was pulled back into a loose catch in a way that left some hair loose to frame her face and cover her ears. One lock had freed itself and hung by her jaw, limp, straight as a nail and without luster. She wore drab, sand-colored clothes that hung off her small frame and it was obvious to Vader that it was a struggle for her not to simply walk out of her shoes. _Maybe a good project would be to find her some clothes that do her justice. Or at least fit. I wonder if that tailor is still on board. I hope I didn't evict him after that cheese raid..._

About here, he realized that she was still standing in front of him waiting patiently for some sort of command. Vader tried vainly to remember why she was here, but it just eluded him. He waved his hand vaguely in the air trying to think of something to say and failing miserably. Thankfully, she seemed to understand his lack of instruction and moved to leave. She bowed respectfully and turned away. Vader watched her walk away and noticed something very odd. When she walked, her feet were turned on the outsides and she held her ankles very still. She made absolutely no sound, but the mechanics of the walk were so awkward that he simply couldn't understand how she moved so fluidly. He would consider that later, perhaps during his next meditation.

He turned back to his desk. The form for hairdryers was still there. He crossed out his signature- obliterated, really- and scrawled something threatening about Force-choking if anyone tried this again. He set that paper aside and tried to get on with it, but his mind kept returning to the girl. He located a mostly unmarked piece of paper and scratched out a message to the kitchens that some food was to be brought to his chambers at once. He shoved it in the tube that, hopefully, led to the appropriate place. He didn't want it to accidentally end up in some kind of soup or something. More at ease now, he turned back to his desk one last time and started vetoing the request for bubble gum machines in every hallway.

xXx

I ran out of funny at the end, but I think it worked pretty well. So, please tell me what you think, criticism and comments are welcome as are suggestions for improvement and future events. I'll begin polishing up the next chapter as soon as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- This is going to be a really long chapter, but I believe in finishing my thought- thus why some of my sentences are so killer to follow. I realize that there may be some confusion about the time in which this takes place and the overall time scheme of the plot. Allow me to clear this up. I, who am not overly familiar with the linear motion of the Star Wars saga, have tried to set this story in a place that could really be anywhere. Obviously, Vader and the girl are on a ship right now, but in a later chapter I will move them onto some-planet-that-I-haven't-the-imagination-to-name. The time period would be less important except that I need a few key people to enter the picture and effectively end the story. It's somewhere near the end of the original trilogy and you may have to put up with some inaccuracies. For that, I apologize. Enough of me- get on with the story.

My Thanks to my one reviewer:

Li-Li-ThePinkbookgirl- I'm glad you like it. I hope you like this chapter, too.

Disclaimer- I don't own anything except the girl.

xXx

She was looking at him with only a trace of great patience; as if she had all the time in the world to wait. Several moments passed while he ordered his thoughts. She, in an eerily statue-like way, did not move. If his attention had not been focused entirely on her, he would forget her presence. He watched her watch him. Her eyes seemed to meet his, but there was no apparent sign of recognition. It occurred to Vader that she was merely looking _through_ him. He tried to shrug it off.

"Go to the boiler room down in the center of the ship," he said slowly. He wanted to make sure that she understood perfectly and as of yet, her mental capabilities were still undetermined, so he took extra precaution. "There, you will find the fires that melt our scrap metal. Go to the third chute. Above the chute will be a metal '3.' Take it off. In the cavity behind it, there is a key. Take it out, put the number back and bring the key to me."

She made no movement while he spoke. When she was certain that his instructions were complete, she bowed to him; inclining her head and curving her back slightly with her hands pressed together before her. She turned to go, her eyes now transparently trained on the floor. She crossed halfway to the door when she stopped and smoothly turned back to face him. Her eyes were still lowered to look at the floor, but her attitude said that she was waiting to be addressed.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, fascinated by her movements.

"Milord, what is a three?"

Vader stared at her for a moment. Firstly, her voice had been so soft, he wasn't sure that he had heard correctly or, indeed, heard her speak at all. He found himself thinking that it wasn't an unpleasant voice, merely dry from disuse, perhaps. Secondly, it was not a question that anyone had ever asked him and certainly not one that he had expected. She still stood facing him, waiting for his response without the slightest hint of emotion on her face. Her question had been so humble in nature that Vader was not quite certain how best to answer.

"You cannot read?" he said in a completely ambiguous tone. Quickly, he saw that perhaps he should have made his mood more apparent. Her body language indicated that she was unsure of his pleasure, displeasure or indifference and was accordingly apprehensive.

"No, Lord," she responded evenly. Many of his officers would not have been able to answer as she had: nothing in her speech indicated that she was afraid, but he didn't need to hear her to know how she felt. He could see it in the way she no longer looked in his eyes, but over his left shoulder. He could see it in the way she now stood with her weight on her forefoot, bracing herself by lowering her center of balance. He could see it in the way her blank expression became a little harder in the set of her jaw and the lines around her eyes. These subtleties intrigued him. In what way did his question cause this change? Was it his tone?

Moving slowly so as not to appear menacing, Vader summoned a pen and a slip of paper. Without letting his eyes leave her, he drew a '3' on the paper and handed it to her. "This is a three," he said in the same ambiguous tone as before to observe her reaction. She took the paper from him with both hands and looked at it carefully before stowing it in an inner pocket. Vader concluded that the tone itself was not the cause of her reaction. Perhaps it was the question and the tone together. Either way, he waved her off and turned back to his wall screen. He did not see her eyes linger on him before she made to leave and he did not see her leave.

xXx

It had been several hours since she left to retrieve the key for him. The pendant she wore around her neck supposedly allowed him to know where she was at any given time, but he couldn't place her. It couldn't be removed, either by her or anyone else besides him. This probably meant that the Force it was imbued with was being blocked by something or other or she was quite a distance away; this meant being off the ship. It was possible that she had gotten lost, but he thought that she was capable of asking for directions. Perhaps she wasn't.

He was beginning to consider searching for her by meditation, but was interrupted by the appearance of one of his captains. He swiveled around to address the slight man. "Yes, Captain?"

"Sir," said the man in a crisp voice, "one of my men found a stowaway on board. We have apprehended her and she is currently being held in one of the D cells, sir." He held out a small paper and a key, "These were in her possession, sir. She was also wearing a rather unusual necklace. Upon trying to remove it, she became quite violent and seemed to be in rather considerable pain. We believe that she was trying to sabotage the ship." Vader took the paper from his captain and studied the '3' drawn upon it. At least someone had found her and this also provided an explanation as to his inability to find her; the walls of the detention center were made from stuff that repelled the Force.

"How long ago was she found?"

The captain did a quick calculation in his head. "Two and a half hours ago, sir." This response provided enough fuel to set off several trains of thought. How long did it take her to find the boiler room? He should probably have given her directions. Why was he not informed the moment she had been found? Surely it did not take two hours to process a detainee...

"Take me to her, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

xXx

As expected, the 'stowaway' was her. She sat curled up in a little ball in the corner of her white cell. Vader could see, never mind _sense_, her distress. Her pale lips twitched as if she was talking to herself. Then again, maybe she was singing to herself. She also appeared to be holding something small in her hands. Was she talking to it? He wondered vaguely why this little object had not been taken from her before he abandoned this line of thought for later pursuance. For the present, he was merely stunned by the fact that she was _distressed_. At least this was something other than the usual droll blank slate sort of stuff that he was used to seeing. He mused that maybe it was his presence that forced the emotion from her. This would be something to study... later.

He turned to the captain. "Who is responsible for her capture? No, no, his name does not matter. Bring him to me." The man saluted and ran off. Vader turned to the jail keeper. "Let me in." The keeper promptly began shuffling through keys and jiggling the handle. The resulting noise shook the girl from her state. Vader watched her leap upright and eye the door. He looked closely; there was something strange about the way she moved. It was sort of fluid. Once she began to move, she did not stop until the movement was completed. It was rather enjoyable to watch. She now guessed that he had been watching her. Though she returned to her usual blank attitude, it was apparent that she was ready to receive some form of punishment. Vader made a mental note to question her about her previous owner (owners?) to see if he could discover which of them had destroyed her ability to emote.

In his most unthreatening manner (which for him, wasn't saying much), he entered the cell. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head. Mildly surprised (he had been expecting her to hold her ground as she had earlier) he looked down upon her long hair that waterfalled over her face and down her front to curl delicately on her thighs. Using only a strand of the Force that ran through him, he lifted her chin to look into her face. It was as blank as ever. He felt slightly disappointed, but not surprised. "What was it that you had in your hands?" he asked, hoping that he didn't sound accusative.

The girl blinked quickly a few times. Vader thought that perhaps this was her way of being nervous. "A picture, Milord," she said in the same soft voice that made him wonder whether or not she had, in fact, spoken at all. Her voice, now that he had a slight chance to think past her mere words, reminded him of the sounds that moths made: a soft _shush_ing of wings and then a breath of silence.

Best to dive right in. "May I see it?" he ventured. For the briefest of moments it seemed as if she was not going to make any sort of response; no speech, no movements, nothing.

She made to bring out the out the photograph, but the movements of her arm became jerky and impeded her progress. Vader stopped her.

"Roll up your sleeves," he instructed. Using the greatest of care, the slight girl did as she was told and the reason for her lack of grace was exposed. Both of her forearms were burned an awful red-orange color; her skin was blistered in the pattern of a hand. Someone had grabbed a hold of her, probably the soldier who had arrested her or the jailer who processed her, or possibly the person who was responsible for the extra few hours of her departure. Did the touch burn her skin through her clothes or had this person touched her skin directly? He decided not to address the subject yet. As gently as he could manage (though again, it most likely didn't mean very much) he said, "You didn't tell me you could sing."

She smiled. Though it was only a flicker, it was amazing. Her eyes brightened bringing out the green flecks in her hazel eyes that he had never seen. The elegant curve of her thin lips enhanced the blush of her pale cheeks and balanced the face that had always looked so static. Just as swiftly as it appeared, her smile was gone, but it was enough. She _did_ feel; he loved it.

xXx

Private Searcy stood before Vader in his chambers. Searcy appeared calmer than was generally possible, but Vader, who was beginning to notice the miniscule details, knew better. His fists were very tightly clenched and there was a line in his jaw that indicated that he was very nervous indeed. Vader took a moment to enjoy the power he had over this man. He could harmlessly fire the man, cause him to feel stabbing pains in any area of his body or simply crush the life out of him. This was why Jedi became attracted to the darker side of their natures- sometimes a little evil was worth it for the therapeutic affect. Screw aromatherapy candles.

"Tell me," he said to the young man. "Where did you find the girl?"

The private's 'attention' stance perked up. "I found her in the boilers, by chute three, Milord." His voice was very smooth and he spoke very flowingly. The effect was very pleasant on the ear.

"And what did you do with her once you found her?"

"I detained and processed her, sir," he said with the air of rehearsal.

"This detention," said Vader as casually as possible. "Was it very routine?"

"Yes, sir," Searcy replied. "I relieved her of the key and paper and very nearly removed her necklace, but she scratched me. Milord," he added as an afterthought.

"Then you were also the man who processed her?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Then please, bear with me for a moment. How long does it take to process a detainee?"

The man thought quickly. "Less than half an hour, sir."

"And why was it that her presence was not reported to me for another hour and a half?"

"Ah..." the man shifted from foot to foot. Vader nearly prayed that the man came up with a good answer. "My superior, sir. The Captain required my attention just then and I had to report. It was a while before I remembered the prisoner, sir."

Vader was impressed with the man's ability to think on his feet, but he, unfortunately, had just dug himself into a deeper hole. "You didn't remember for another hour and a half, you say?"

"Yes, sir." The man's face became noticeably apprehensive.

Vader pretended to dismiss the matter for a moment and move on. "Tell me, did you get a good look at the necklace the prisoner was wearing? You said that you nearly removed it from her."

The man looked relieved. "Yes, sir. I did get a good look."

"Then perhaps you could have seen that the necklace bore my insignia?"

"Yes, sir?" The apprehension returned.

Vader loomed over the man. "Did I not give an order that anything, or anyone, bearing my personal sign should be treated with the respect that is due to me?"

Searcy looked like he was going to break down any moment. "I thought it was a fake, sir! I thought she was using it to protect herself. Please, sir..."

Vader cut him off with a violent motion with the flat of his hand. "No," he said threateningly. "You disobeyed my direct order, showed contempt for the regulations and rules that were set and accosted my servant. You have failed me." ((omg... did I just write that?)) The man fell to his knees and began begging. The words that fell from his lips were not important, nor really was the emotion. All Vader knew was that this man was now annoying him and it was going to stop.

Vader extended his hand and began to curl the fingers into his palm.

The slight man abruptly stopped sobbing and reached for his throat.

A white blur flashed by Vader streaking for the pitiful lump on the floor.

Vader wasn't fast enough to see what the thing was that had entered so quickly and by the time he looked back, it was almost too late.

The girl stood in his way.

She bodily blocked Private Searcy from view and emitted a faint gasping noise.

Horrified, Vader threw his hand open and took a step back. The girl dropped to her knees.

"What... what are you doing?" asked Darth Vader weakly.

She lifted her head and Vader saw that her pale cheeks shone with tears. "I want no blood shed for my sake."

Now, what do you say to that?

xXx

A/N- Wow... parts of that were hard to write but I think it turned out well. Tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- I'm sorry there's no transition between last chapter and this one. I tried to put one in but nothing seemed to fit. After a while, just leaving a gap started to feel right.

My thanks to the people who reviewed:

Li-Li-ThePinkbookgirl- I'm glad you like it. Here's your continuation!

Darth Chunky- Thanks for reviewing, I hope you like this chapter as well.

Jedi Knight 13- Eerie is good, I'm glad you picked up on the mood so well. Of course, I can't yet tell you where I'm going from here, but I think that you'll be surprised.

Disclaimer- I do not own Star Wars or else I would not be here, writing this story.

xXx

The girl was doing very well, Vader thought. So far, they both had been there a little over half an hour. Vader had met five different terribly important persons of influence, blackmailed six or so servants for dirt on their employers and threatened two high ranking officers in a thinly-veiled sort of way. From what he could see, the girl had served just about every person twice or more without embarrassing herself and she even seemed to be getting on well with one of the young male servers. He wondered vaguely whether or not he should be worried about her and another servant, but he quickly dismissed the notion: The pendant still prevented anyone from touching her, but he was beginning to think about perhaps re-enchanting the necklace so that she could take it off. He could probably trust her that much; after all, she was frightened of just about everyone but him. Rather ironic, really, since he was the person of which most people were afraid.

He stood in the middle of the room, scanning the small gathering. He watched the girl circle one group of five people in voluminous robes. One man took a cream puff from the tray she carried on one shoulder. Then he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She bobbed her head in response and moved away rather quickly. He would have continued tracking her but for two things: one, she was lost in a thicket of supremely important persons and two, the prime chancellor of somewhere-important-or-other came up to him with more significant people to introduce.

Fifteen minutes into a droll conversation about regulation of some sort of traffic, Vader spotted the girl again. She was standing before the same royal person as before, but something about her attitude was wrong. One leg was locked and the other was bent giving her a slanted appearance while her eyes were trained on the floor two inches before her feet. The blank expression that they had worked so hard to break had returned but there was something more that disturbed him.

"Well, of course, this is very well known, but that's not what I was asking the public. What do you think, Milord Vader?"

Vader returned to his place and time long enough to voice an opinion before returning to the matter at hand. It was hard to see from a distance, but it seemed as if the girl was rocking slightly as the man talked to her. He took a look at the man himself. The man was older, having a distinctly silver cast to his face and hair. He had shiny eyes; from the side, they seemed to be like cat eyes, but he couldn't be sure until he saw the man face-to-face. His black and blue robes announced his status as one of royal blood. The movements of his hands indicated something sly was going on and Vader could almost imagine the sleek tone of voice he was using. His mind told him to stay put and only act if things turned very bad, but the rest of him wanted to pounce on the puffed up slime ball politician and beat the stuffing out of him. He restrained himself by stepping out of the room.

Once he placated and reassured himself, he returned. She was nowhere in sight. He stalked to the center of the ballroom and turned slowly on the spot. No, she truly was not to be had. His mind swept the room and the spaces beyond. Nothing. Where the hell was she? Come to think of it, where was that grease bag politician? He focused his mind on the man instead; men of power were always easy to find because they were generally clumsy. Nothing! Not a twitch on the link between him and the girl and no scent of the man. Now he was bothered and a little frustrated. Why was it that the Force only failed him when it dealt with his servant? He thought for a moment. Okay, so use the Force in a way that it doesn't deal with the girl. So obvious but also easier said than done. He wondered if scratching one's head actually helps one to think. He was about to try it when it struck him: the serving boy. Find him and ask if he knew where his slave had gone.

He was so eager to find the boy that he temporarily lost control of the Force. He broke a vase or two before he got a hold of himself and started looking for the kid. He was back in the kitchens. Vader pointed himself in the correct direction and was immediately impeded by about five frightfully important people. One had the audacity to try to lead him away by the arm. He jerked his arm back and the man went toppling to the floor. Vader swept away without a backward glance. He savagely hoped that he had done some real damage to the little crawling worm.

He burst into the kitchens and caused a few cooks to overturn pots full of stew and baskets of cutlery. He apologized a bit more meekly, gathered the knives and forks with the Force and put them back before asking them where he could find the servant boy. Since he didn't have a name, the staff had to describe most of the serving boys until he found one or two that fit the description.

They called over the boys and Vader picked the one he recognized. The poor kid was shaking in his worn out shoes. Sometimes Vader was a little tired of people who were always afraid of him; they made things so tiresome. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Matt, Lord," he replied shakily. The boy swallowed nervously. "What have I done?"

Vader rolled his eyes. "You haven't done anything, young fool," he said and Matt relaxed somewhat. Instead, he looked puzzled, which was an improvement, Vader supposed. "I am looking for my servant girl," he said. "Last I saw she was talking to the man in black and blue robes. Do you know where she is?"

Matt nodded. "They were going off to the Green Lounge," he said waving in the general direction of said lounge. "I followed them for a ways before I had to come back," he admitted.

"The girl," said Vader quickly, "Was he leading her, or did he take her by the arm?"

"He was leading her, Lord."

"I see," said Vader, nodding. Her amulet was still working- this bought him a little time. "And you said the Green Lounge was which direction?" Matt gave him a set of directions, which Vader only half listened to, he was too intent on sweeping the area that Matt indicated looking for the girl and the politician. A whisper of the presence he associated with the girl floated in the area. He left without thanking Matt and zeroed in on the trace. He quickly decided to leave the kitchen by a door that didn't open out onto the ballroom; he was tired of dealing with the upper class. He spotted a door at the other end of the kitchens; behind it was a stairwell. He didn't need a staircase (she was on this floor), but he couldn't see any other exit so he took the damn gift horse.

The servant's stairs creaked dangerously under his weight, but he didn't care. He threw open the first door he came to and fell forward into a lady's bedchamber. How convenient. The woman to whom it belonged was still fully clothed, but it was obvious by her attitude that she wasn't going to have remained so for very long. He silenced the scream that grew in her throat and clumsily picked himself up.

"Forgiveness, lady," he apologized, bowing with as much dignity as possible. He then released her voice and fled her room. He heard her at her door, addressing him most vehemently at a decibel level that would soon alert most of the building as to his whereabouts, so he put on a little extra speed and proceeded down the next staircase with all haste.

The twists and turns of the last stretch didn't matter as much as the growing sense of urgency that he picked up from the thin connection he felt between his servant and himself. It pulled him forward and fueled his purpose. Soon he fairly ran down the long hallway. So great was his momentum that inertia almost refused to let him go when he reached the appropriate door. While he caught what remained of his breath, he considered briefly whether or not to knock but decided that if he was wrong, he could talk his way out of it. How many times today had he already done the same? He compromised and knocked the door open.

The scene that greeted him was not good. The man in the black and blue robes was standing over the girl, holding something vaguely cloth-like in one hand and groping a delicate area of the girl's body with the other. As for the girl, one of her hands clung to the waistcoat of the man to keep herself in a half-kneeling position. Her other hand was bloody and resting on bits of glass. Her eyes were wide and eerily tearless and a tiny dribble of blood trickled down her chin from her lips where she was narrowly preventing herself from speech by biting her mouth closed. They both turned to him upon his thunderous entrance with dramatically opposite expressions. The man looked angry for being interrupted and frightened of the character that had interrupted him. Vader noticed, with fierce pride, that the cheek that had not been previously facing him was scratched and bloody. The girl looked as if she had been promised everything that she had ever wanted. Her smile, made lopsided by the blood from her lip, was radiant.

"Get your hands off my servant," pronounced Vader in a voice that was like icy death. Like an ideal specimen of his kind, the man released then girl as if she was something vaguely gangrenous. She sank back on her knees and fell face forward. Vader resisted the urge to rush to her side; there was a loaded political gun here, and the hammer was cocked. This man, greasy disrespectful bastard that he was, outranked him. Vader did not have the authority to begin to order him around, but he needed to take this situation in hand. Since he couldn't very well remove the politician without a serious confrontation, then he should remove the girl.

With a hand that was steadied by sheer willpower, he made a beckoning motion to the girl. In her usual graceful manner, she rose from her... compromising position on the carpet and quickly moved to his side. When she was only an arms length away, Vader realized that something was wrong. A) she wasn't wearing any shoes and B) her blouse, in it's current state, supplied insufficient material to comply with the standards of social modesty. What to do?

Vader considered the dilemma for a few moments, wondering whether or not politics should be factored in and finally decided, 'What the hell? I wasn't going to end up on the good side of this party anyway.' He removed the cape from his armor and settled it around the shoulders of his girl. He bit back a laugh at the picture she cut in a black cape cut for a man who was seven feet tall (she only just topped 5 feet) and turned away quickly.

"I think," he said as if he was considering the weather, "That it is time we went home."

xXx

An hour and a half flight later, they were back on the ship. The girl had changed clothes and cleaned herself up some and she now sat at his right hand while he went over some papers. Vader snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face had fallen into it's usual blank slate, cold grey eyes staring absently at the untidy stack of papers on the corner of the desk. A miniscule twitch in one finger suggested that she very much wanted to reach out and pat the papers into order. Vader looked back at the inventory form and scratched off a few orders for double-bunkers.

After a few more corrections, Vader decided that this job was done. He took a strip of paper and prepared to bind the papers together. He held the purple blob of sealing wax to a nearby candle and attempted to locate his seal. _I must have left it in the meditation chamber._ He looked at the girl. She sprang to her feet at once and headed off in the direction of the meditation cell. He watched her walk away with small, restricted steps. He noticed that one of her feet looked a bit red on the bottom and realized that she still wasn't wearing any shoes.

That's when she collapsed.

Even when she had lost all control, her movement was still beautiful.

Her body swung over to one side in a graceful arc and landed in a delicate heap that made no sound.

Vader sprang from his chair and stumbled to her side. Kneeling, he rolled her onto her back and discovered the source of the blood. The reason one of her feet had been red was that it had been bleeding. A piece of glass dug into the soft flesh of her arch. He wanted to yank it out, but first aid trainers had told him that this could be worse than leaving it in. He bent over her and tried not to breathe long enough to hear if _she_ was breathing. He couldn't hear anything. Sweat was forming on her unusually pale brow. This was beyond what he could do.

Clumsily, he staggered over to the intercom/wall screen. He gave himself two seconds to regain composure and put himself in contact with the hospital wing.

"Send down a medic to fetch my servant. She has collapsed on my floor," he said trying to make it sound as if all of this was a tiresome bore. He didn't give them time to form a response and cut the connection.

He went back to the girl. She had regained consciousness long enough to open her eyes a fraction and she was watching Vader. He knelt down beside her again. In a sudden impulse, he reached out and took her hand in his. It was hard work not to crush it. He looked at her tiny, white hand in his huge black glove. Then he looked back into her face.

She was smiling at him.

Never had he so desperately wished that he was able to smile.

xXx

A/N- Yay for angst and fluffiness said in the same breath! I hope you like this chapter. And you should review. The next chapter might take a bit longer to upload because I have to write it entirely from scratch.


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the next chapter, as promised. It may not turn out as long as the other chapters, but only because I need it to move my story from one place to another.

My thanks to:

Jedi Knight 13- I'm glad you like it well enough to follow it, and I hope I meet your expectations with this chapter.

Li-Li-ThePinkBookGirl- Your wish is my command; here is my continuation. Please see the note at the end of this chapter.

Disclaimer- Vader is not mine. Star Wars is not mine. If it was, the world as we know it would be changed forever.

xXx

It had been a week since the social function and his girl still hadn't returned from the ward. For two days, Darth Vader had been debating whether or not to go and see her. The resulting tension had been wreaking havoc on the people around him, mechanical gadgets he used every day and various small, breakable objects. He sat at his desk, playing with a pen in one hand, his chin in the other, staring at the paper in front of him and not seeing a word on it. He couldn't keep his mind off her. He pictured her in the infirmary lying pathetically in a starkly white bed, pale as the sheets, eyes closed. She looked very small and fragile in his mind- as if a puff of wind could take the breath from her mouth... permanently. Attendants bustled everywhere but where they were needed; like they didn't see her there, dying.

A _snap_ woke him from his reverie. He looked around, thinking someone had come into the room, but no one was there. He looked back and saw that the pen in his hand had snapped. That had to be the fourth this week.

That was it. He was going to go see her- if only for the sake of his writing implements.

Summoned cloak in hand, Lord Vader strode imperially through the halls with single-minded determination. He hardly noticed the underlings throwing themselves from his path, hurriedly raising clumsy hands into attention. The doors of the infirmary hastened open with a resounding bang. The nurse closest to the door jumped back against the wall, hand to her chest.

She recovered herself. "My lord Vader," she addressed him, with a voice as soft as the white on the walls, "How may we help you?" She picked up a nearby clipboard and made exaggerated attempts at writing normally. Maybe the fact that the pen kept slipping out of her hand gave her away.

"My servant," Vader said simply. He balked at mentioning why he wanted to see her. Maybe because he wasn't entirely sure himself.

The young woman tucked a strand of yellow hair into her crisp cap. "Of course, my lord. Anna!" A tiny woman approached at the sound of her name. A quick conversation in voices too low to decipher took place. Vader shifted from foot to foot, trying not to let his armor make too much noise. What were they saying that made Anna take all of those quick glances at him?

Anna made a small bow to Vader. "Follow me please, sir." Vader followed the girl and the sharp sound of her quick steps. Anna opened a door he hadn't noticed beyond the desk and led him into the main ward. White partitions lined either side of the impromptu hall. In the corners of his eyes, he looked through the divides in the walls of cloth. People lay in white beds- some sleeping, some awake. Their faces flashed by too fast to register, but one thing stood out- no one was smiling. They reached the other end of the ward and Anna held open the door for him. Vader swept through.

This ward was severely white- already his horrid daydream was becoming a reality. This room was just as large as the last ward but with half the beds. Only half of the beds were filled, the rest stood empty. Empty- that was the word to describe this room. Empty of sound, empty of people, empty of life.

Anna directed him to the last bed on the right where her tiny figure lay. The sight was shocking. She lay on her back with her eyes closed, propped up by a mound of uncomfortable-looking pillows. There was so little color in her face that she didn't look so much sleeping as dead. Dark circles bloomed under her hollowed eyes. Her cheekbones stuck out making her look angular and bony. Barely a crease in the sheets to show the body that lay beneath. Thin tubes hung from glass bottles to her exposed wrists. Her wrists looked wrong. It looked wrong that her arm was turned to expose the tender inside flesh. He suppressed the urge to reach out and turn her hand over.

Anna watched his mask warily, eyes searching him for any sign of any emotion at all. He detachedly wondered what she was thinking. Was she afraid? He was nervous in this room. The dramatic irony of his vision was palpable. Anna spoke in a cool voice.

"We dug the glass from her foot and administered the proper antibacterial medication, but the wound was infected and feverish," she said without looking at any sort of reference. "The infection spread through her legs and arms, threatening to invade her heart. We gave her several units of O blood, but we didn't have enough. We're waiting for additional units while her blood test processes." Here, she looked at the girls face with a tender sadness. "She wouldn't be so weak," she said, her voice losing all trace of formality, "but on the second day, she stopped eating. We attempted to force food into her, but it all came back up. Now, we feed it directly into her stomach." She pointed out another clear tube that protruded from her nose and was taped to the other side of her face. "She is on heavy pain killers, tranquilizers, stomach relaxants and anti-infection medication." There was a brief moment of silence after this statement while Anne reached out and tucked a wayward strand of brown behind her patient's pale ear.

Darth Vader didn't know what to say. It was apparent that the staff was doing all they could to help the girl, and they were genuinely concerned for her welfare. He could not fault them for this if he tried, but it only took one look to see that she was dying. For whatever reason, the girl was wasting away in this immoderate sea of sterile white and if something wasn't done, she would soon fade away.

It must have been just then that he decided.

"Have her moved back to my rooms."

Anne froze. Well, not entirely- her jaw dropped, but _then_ it froze. She stared blatantly until Vader made a prompting motion with his hand and then she could only splutter, "But, but, _why_? How? We have the equipment... what if... if something goes wrong..."

"Then you are only a call away," said Vader cutting across her imperially. "Have the girl removed to my rooms immediately." He turned to go.

"But _policy_!" she said desperately, "Policy might not allow it..."

"Who is this person, Policy?" demanded Vader with fire on his tongue. "'Policy' seems to forget who is in command of this craft. To hell with your policy. Now, do as I say." His tone left no room for argument.

xXx

Lord Vader was reading two books at one time. He did this, not because he liked to overtax his brain with multitasking, but out of necessity. After the hospital workers had finally gotten their collective acts together and manually moved their patient to the desired location, the nurses involved had given Vader some reading material pertaining to his new duties as caretaker; followed by some serious admonition and several tongue-lashings for refusing to hire out help from the hospital wing, of course.

Five minutes into reading said material, or perhaps only two minutes, Vader realized exactly what he had gotten himself into. He put down the book on basic medicinal medical procedures and went to go find a dictionary. Ten minutes after that, he discovered that most of the words he needed to know weren't found in your average dictionary and he went off to find the proper lingual aid. Two hours later, he is sitting at his desk, reading two books at the same time: the aforementioned textbook and a medical encyclopedia.

On a convenient slip of paper, he had been taking notes on precisely what he was supposed to be doing. He was already scribbling on the back of the page even though her handwriting was relatively small. He looked at a clock. It was about five in the evening and probably time to see if there was any way to get something vaguely nutritional in composition into her body. After a quick consultation with his medical crib notes, he found the proper Tupperware containers supplied by the ward and proceeded into the bedroom.

His bed, which he no longer used, was immense. He was a big man in the first place but add a tendency to move rather a lot while unconscious and a fondness for cover stealing and that equaled the need for a rather ridiculous amount of space. The tiny girl looked almost comical swallowed up in the many black blankets; compiled to sweat the fever out. He considered using her bed at first, but after a moments thought, decided against it. _Note to self- find bedding that resembles less a cot and more something with a proper mattress so dependent charge does not injure self in dormant stages._

Vader approached her carefully, hoping his footsteps would awaken her. He put down the plastic tub on the nightstand and looked for the syringe that would allow him to feed her. When he looked again, her eyes were open and she was watching him. Her eyes lacked their usual sharp luster and quick movements. She blinked without hurry and seemed to take great care in focusing on him.

"How are you feeling?" asked Vader kindly. The girl slowly blinked. He decided that perhaps that had been a stupid question.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. She blinked again, but otherwise offered no reaction.

_Okay... Easy on the questions, then._ He busied himself with putting the mechanism together. "Would you like another blanket?" It was all he could think of to say. Again, that slow blink. He could see in her eyes that she understood him, that wasn't the cause for the lack of response. He might also have said that she was merely tired, but her stare was too intense. Like she was trying to say something...

He watched her for a minute. She held his gaze steadily, blinking intermittently. When she didn't do anything else, he tried one more time. "Are you thirsty?"

She blinked once very deliberately.

He could have slapped himself. Of course she was trying to say something. "So you _are_ hungry, then?"

She blinked once with a hint of a smile in her eyes. The brief sparkle was more than welcome. He hooked up the little machine to the tube in her nose and turned it on. It fed her for a while until she blinked twice rather forcefully. He took his cue and turned it off.

Vader took another look at his sheet while he stowed everything away. Apparently, he was supposed to clean and dress her infected wound three or fours times a day. Now was as good as any time, right?

He clumsily took off the old dressings from her foot and looked at the gash underneath. It had _not_ been a clean cut. The wound was expertly sewed, but one could still see a bit of uneven skin at either end. The surrounding flesh was still an angry red. A damp cloth washed away the old cream nicely and a long q-tip applied the new equally well. Vader picked up a sterile pad and a roll of gauze and prepared to use it, but he stopped. He stared at her foot for a moment.

She had very pretty feet, very small and narrow. Nothing _appeared_ wrong with her foot, aside from the injury in the arch and the remaining scars from the smaller scrapes, but something about its shape made him look a second time. Now mind you, a considerable amount of time had passed since he had taken a good look at his own feet, but he was pretty sure that the bone on top of the foot wasn't supposed to curve out like that. He put down the gauze and fetched the medical book. He flipped through until he found a picture of the bone structure of a foot. No, it was not supposed to look like that. Not only that, but the bone on the outside of her foot was also supposed to be straighter. He brought the book back. He uncovered her other foot and removed the sock. The shape of this foot was similar, but not the same. The bones in the foot were also bent, but they looked more angular and the curve was closer to the ankle. Vader read the text with growing apprehension. He could only come to one conclusion.

"Who crippled your feet?"

xXx

A/N- Ooh, cliffhanger. I apologize most sincerely for the delay of this chapter. I spent so much time trying to get this thing written and going nowhere that I wanted to scream. Finally, I decided that I was trying too hard and so I didn't look at it for about two days. Then I came back and finished the chapter with no effort at all. Of course, I had to wait the obligatory hour and read through it again before posting, but it really only took me half an hour to write three pages.

Oh, and in case you didn't notice- I am not majoring in medicine, so please excuse any inaccuracies in this department. If you know better terms, feel free to tell me what they are- and possibly what they mean/do.

I'm afraid that the next chapter might take every bit as long as this one did. I beg forgiveness in advance.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N- I am so sorry for the extreme delay. I found lots of interesting shineys online to distract me from what was important (writing, of course) and I also found a man who was willing to give me shineys so I started spending all of my free time with him, which in turn cut down on the writing. Then, I encountered the major problem of college: mid-terms (I have yet to experience finals and don't get me started on juries!). Anyway, the point is that I have a very legit reason for the delay and I would like very much to promise that it won't happen again, but I can't. So, enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to the reviewers and all other persons who are patient enough to wait for this next installment! I present you each with a cyber-rose.

xXx

Darth Vader was preoccupied. He had been trying to clear his mind of all thought for fifteen minutes, at least. Of course, this was in response to the two hours of unclear thought to which he had been subjected. He stared blankly at the backs of his eyelids. He saw the dark in her eyes. The emptiness cut through him. In her stare, he was everything and nothing; everything she never wanted to say and already had. He was only lucky in its brief passing; the few seconds of silence broke quickly due to an unexpectedly altered state of consciousness- hers. However, that was four hours ago. After he had stabilized her condition, (a feat of which he was rather proud) his mind had turned back to her, specifically her feet.

How had he never seen this before? With her feet maliciously marred in the way that they were, surely he would have noticed her impeded walk. He thought back. Her more recent limp had been due to the minor inconvenience of a large piece of glass embedded into the soft flesh of her arch. He remembered thinking to himself that even then she had appeared to walk normally. Had he grown accustomed to an unusual gait from her? The night of the party... no. Do not think of that. Vader impatiently shunted away the anger and looked further back. Several seconds passed while he tried to collect every memory of her walk. Damn. He had never noticed her walk. He had seen almost everything else about here, how could he not see something so distinctive as a walk?

Darth Vader prided himself as being a very observant man. Even before the girl had come along and indirectly improved his powers of observation, he had seen or sensed things about people that spoke volumes about them. Among these characteristics were clothes, unconscious twitches and gestures, voice inflections, stances, walks and expressions. All said things about the person to whom they belonged. A confident woman would walk with her shoulders back and usually has a snap to her steps. There is certain tightness to her cheeks and jaw that give shine to her eyes. The girl had none of these. She walked stoop-shouldered and avoided all eye contact. Her footsteps were so quiet that he had often been surprised by her presence. In fact, most things about her were quiet; including her pain.

One of the downsides to being to in tune with the force was the tendency to feel other's pain as your own. Most of the time, especially when the catalyst was him, Vader was able to block the pain of others... or at least divert it on to someone else. But when he wasn't paying attention, or when he let his guard down, it was all too easy for a wave of pain (that was not his own) to sweep across his mind and steal his concentration. So, he was surprised that he hadn't felt any pain from the girl. Walking everyday must be a nightmare and then with the glass shard in her arch, there is no way that she could not have felt something.

So, Vader was preoccupied. He wondered how she could live with her feet, who have forced her to live with them and if it was possible to fix them. (The thought never crossed her mind that she would want to keep her feet as they were.) He glanced quickly at the ornate clock in the corner. It had now been four and a half hours since her pass into unconsciousness and he now wondered if she was awake. Armor creaking, Darth Vader stood and swept through the door on the other side of the room.

Vader's interrogative mood dissipated instantly upon entering the room. Everything was too still, too unchanged for such disruption. He had the keen sense that he was standing at the edge of a pool looking at the calm surface just before the lightest of breezes touches the water. He steadied himself with a deep breath before plunging in. Carefully, he came up to the left side of the huge bed, the side on which the girl slept. He gazed for a moment at the blanket that rose and fell in an unbroken rhythm. In a manner that reminded one of frozen molasses, Vader raised his hand to touch the girl's shoulder.

Her eyes flashed open.

His hand froze. Her eyes bored through his mask into the eyes that lay behind. He knew that she was perfectly aware of his hand hovering in the air and where its original destination had been, but she required no explanation. Unblinkingly, she patiently waited for him to say something.

"Ah, good," said a flustered Vader, dropping his hand awkwardly, "You are awake." _Way to go, genius._ She made no reply but only continued to wait for some sort of command. What was the winning phrase? "Are you well?" Vader could have slapped himself. Of course she was not well, she had just passed out, her infection was inflamed and her feet were broken.

Slowly, she nodded. It seemed for a moment like that was all she was going to do when she surprisingly spoke softly, "Yes, I am well." Her voice rose barely above a whisper, but held no sign of weakness. Vader considered her carefully. Any more questions about the state of her health would be pointless. He could see that she knew perfectly well what he wanted to know, but she obviously wasn't going to offer any information without prompting. He wondered if he would gain anything by asking for what he wanted plainly, or if talking his way into it would be better. He looked back into her eyes. No, he couldn't fool her and he would be stupid to try.

"Who broke your feet?" he asked.

Her muted eyes slowly closed and she turned her head to face the ceiling. There was a slight pause in the sound of the room before she broke the silence. "Please, Milord. Do not ask me that."

Vader stared. This was the first time in their short history together that she had ever refused an order. Well, she hadn't flat out refused it, merely asked for a reprieve. "Why?" he asked while he tried to figure out how to deal with this situation.

Her eyes remained firmly closed. "I will answer, but I beg you to take back your question, Milord."

It took Vader another moment to realize that she hadn't really answered his question. Either time. Something about this exchange was disturbing him greatly and he wasn't sure what it was. He wanted his question answered, but for some reason he was unwilling to press her into answering him. He stared down at the girl in his bed and thought hard.

The way he saw it, he had three choices. 1) He could force her to answer his question, which she didn't want to for some undisclosed reason. 2) He could walk out now, ending the conversation altogether but leaving his question unanswered. 3) He could find another way of getting her to answer. Since the topic was obviously a personal one, perhaps by asking things about herself, he could coax out an answer. So... what did he not know about her? He tried vainly to remember about the slave merchant from which he had bought her.

xXx

"No. I do not want another man in my service."

"Yes, Lord, of course," said the greasy little man, bowing. "I think I know what you're looking for, sir. Come here, you," he added, yanking the lead of a large, bald man. Darth Vader idly watched the pair leave.

"Remind me why we came to buy a slave, again?" he said to the commander beside him.

"Because we can no longer afford to hire more servants, My Lord," the man replied crisply, never once breaking attention.

Vader sniffed disdainfully. "And why have we come to buy from _this_ man?" he demanded in soft tones of utmost loathing.

"His slaves are the cheapest, Lord," replied the man promptly.

Vader decided not to pose any sort of response to this, but watch the slave-merchant drag forward another piece of human goods. This prospect looked hardly likely. With bleached hair shorn off unevenly at the ears and dark circles blooming under sunken eyes, the emaciated girl did not scream out "Hard Laborer."

"What is this you have brought me?" said Darth Vader imperially to the tiny man crouched before him.

The man pushed his long, stringy black hair out of his face before answering. "This is a recent acquisition, Milord. This one has worked under the service of three or four other owners, from what I can gather. It's a quiet little thing, moves fast-like, you know. You'll never even know it's there!"

Vader was affronted by the dealer's informal way of addressing him and also miffed by his refusal to refer to the girl as anything with a gender. Out of pure boredom, Vader circled the girl once or twice; taking in her long, stick-like legs and jutting hipbones wondering what they would look like were she properly fed. There were some sickly green and yellow bruises around her neck and on her forearms; it was obvious that she was suffering in this kind of captivity and looked like she was not long for the "gravel pit out back."

It was hot and Vader was roasting in his black armor. This expedition had taken the better part of a day and he was ready to get back to his mounting paperwork. He decided that this was the last slave he wanted to look at today, so he'd better do it properly- then he could leave without any reservations. He made a motion to the man, who levered the slave's mouth open with a dirty thumbnail. All of her teeth were there (save one in the back) and they looked relatively strong even though they all were yellow. Vader waved his hand and her mouth closed again without a sound.

"How old is she?" asked Vader, placing a bit more emphasis on the female pronoun that was necessary.

"I know not, Milord, but I guess her to be about seventeen or eighteen."

_Rather small for seventeen_! _If I buy her, it looks like she'll fall over dead within the week. Perhaps it is better that way..._ he thought looking again at the bruises and the circles under her eyes. He then realized that he hadn't actually seen her eyes at al, she had kept them focused on the ground through the entire ordeal.

The commander at his elbow cleared his throat and made a small indication of the time. Vader clicked his teeth impatiently and looked back at the girl one last time. He had almost made up his mind to quit the slave buying altogether, but he wanted to satisfy one last question.

"Can she speak at all?"

"Of course she can, Milord," responded the slave merchant a little too quickly. He turned to the girl and in a gruff voice commanded, "Speak, girl!" The girl had hardly begun to open her tiny pink slit of a mouth before the man rather cruelly dug his index finger into her side. "Look at your Lord when you speak to him!" For a moment, is seemed like she wasn't going to move at all (she hadn't even flinched when he poked her!) but suddenly her eyelashes flickered and Vader found himself staring into two grey pits.

"I speak."

xXx

_Alright,_ thought Vader to himself, _So I don't know anything about her. Let's start with the basics, then._

"How old are you?" he asked, remembering that the slave merchant hadn't known the proper answer to that question.

The girl's eyes flicked to him and away again, the only sign that his new question had surprised her. Vader wondered if she was letting her emotions show through more or if he was only becoming more observant.

"I have lived through twenty and two winters, my Lord."

Her way of speaking was archaic and proper. Vader was certain that it wasn't another slave who had taught her to speak. One of her former masters? Anyway, she was twenty two... or was she? She mentioned winters. Was she born during the winter?

"When were you born?"

"Two days before Midsummer."

This complicated the equation more than Vader would have liked. If she was born in summer, then she would not yet have been one by the first winter. By the second winter, she would have been one. Since it was winter now, she should then be twenty one. But when she referred to "Living through winter" did that mean that she counted the winter when it started or when it ended? He decided to stick with twenty one as an age rather than bend his brain over that.

He gazed at her a moment longer, taking in her face. She met his gaze patiently. _Twenty one_, he thought. _She looks far too young to be twenty one. More like seventeen._ Still, he did not doubt her in the least. The gravity and maturity with which she lived spoke of a much older person; think eighty. Vader himself was not exactly young anymore. He steered himself away from that thought nervously and tried to think of another question. What else did he not know?

And then it hit him- the most basic thing of all.

Vader could have laughed out loud were it not for the mood of the room.

"What," Darth Vader pronounced slowly, "is your name?"

Softly, her mouth fell open. Her round eyes widened until white could be seen all the way around the grey. Vader blinked and stared at her first obvious expression of surprise even while she recovered herself enough to say,

"Theodora."

xXx

A/N- Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it? Hopefully the next chapter should be out relatively soon because I already started on it and I know where it's going now. Mostly. Anyway, sorry again for the delay, but you know how lives tend to take over. How pushy.


	6. Chapter 6

Once again I find myself apologizing for a lack of motivation on my part for the production of another chapter. Honestly, I have not expected this story to take this long, but I find myself taking longer and longer to express simple thoughts. (Fancy that.) Either way, I am trying to find the most effective way to end this stupid... I mean, uh... _delightful_ fic in a way that will please both me and my readers. Please enjoy this chapter.

xXx

He had started buying plums in large abundance. Theodora's delight at her first sight of the fruit has pleased him greatly and he now found it very entertaining to see her take the fruit in two weak hands and smile as she bit into it. He had also gotten around to buying her clothes that fit- that had been an interesting excursion.

Her had snagged a young woman from the cleaning staff and had her show him where to buy some simple clothes. They wandered around the market shops to which she had directed him exploring all manner of things in which Vader had little to no experience. Like color. The young woman (whose name was Candy, by the way) explained that for the girl's size and coloring, light colors were bad because they would bleach her out skin and baggy clothes would make her look flat-chested and hipless (which no woman in her right mind would want.) Candy kept up a running commentary on everything they looked at and soon Vader's head was spinning. He realized that he had no idea what colors the girl liked nor what clothes she would be willing to wear. Candy told him not to worry; they would pick out things that could be combined in any sort of style. About this point Candy stopped asking Vader what he wanted and instead only asked for his opinion and things progressed much more quickly after this.

To make a ridiculously long story as short as possible, the shopping trip went well- even with having to pick up the numerous racks that Vader had knocked over because he turned around too quickly. Candy thoughtfully suggested giving the clothes to Theodora while no one was around- he could leave them on her cot and not force her into a situation that she might not be able to handle.

Vader thought they had done amazingly well as he watched the saleswoman wrap their purchases. Two long sleeved tunics (one in cream, the other white), two pairs of long, drawstring trousers, two utility waistcoats with extra pockets (jewel green and blood red) and then a red scarf that doubled as both a head covering and a waist decoration. So, they brought home the brown-paper wrapped package and left it on her bed and Vader graciously extended an invitation to Candy to come over any time and see Theodora. Candy said that she would probably take him up on that offer.

xXx

Theodora's recovery was going splendidly. Two days ago, her fever broke miraculously- although violently. All the sheets and blankets Darth Vader owned were at the cleaners- they were not expected back within the week. To compensate for the spectacular loss of fluids and body weight, Theodora now sported an IV needle supplied by a camel pack on her shoulders. She slowly limped around the apartments supported by a long walking staff. Her new clothes hung loosely on her emaciated frame. She seemed desperate for stimulation in the form of motion, so Vader gave her light tasks. Fetch this. Dust that. Nothing that required either normal strength or two hands. Today, she stood behind him leaning heavily on her staff and looking very servile while officials and crew approached with various orders of business. Theodora collected documents and favors from the supplicants to lay before Vader on the desk and returned the papers if rejected.

Vader's eyes were about to glaze over. The man before him had an extremely monotonic voice and was speaking of nothing that Vader placed and importance on. Surreptitiously, Vader checked the clock. One minute. The man had been talking for one minute and Vader already wanted to shoot himself in the foot. He decided to give the man another thirty seconds before cutting him off and getting him the hell out of his office. He stared very intently at the man as he began counting and was surprised to find that the man was not looking back at him nor even down at the paper. His eyes were trained on a point just above Vader's left shoulder. Theodora was standing there. Vader could see her staff out of the corner of his eye. Darth Vader felt extremely affronted. This man has the gall to waste Vader's time with meaningless drabble and then ignore him completely and stare at his servant the entire time. Well, that was just going to stop right now.

Vader stood up suddenly. Without thinking, Vader waved a hand imperially intending to send Theodora forwards to that the man's paper from her, but instead swept the Force over his desk sending ink bottles, in-trays and paperclips flying. _"Oops,"_ he thought to himself, but rather than trying to remedy his mistake, he just went with it. Dramatically, he raised his right hand to aim at the man's throat. The little man dropped his papers in shock. "You _dare_ to enter my chambers presenting this... this... _twaddle_ before me?" he thundered impressively. "Then you proceed to eye... nay _ogle_ my servant with blatant disregard for either her or myself? This shall stop here." Threateningly, he began to curl his fingers ominously into a fist. The man's face paled and he began to wheeze, clutching for his neck. Vader began to smirk to himself, ready to crush him and be done with it...

He staggered back, clutching his gauntlet, struggling to pull it off. Theodora stood before him, arms spread wide and breathing heavily. A collar of red bloomed at her throat. As he stared at her, her mouth fell open gently and she swayed sideways. A ringing clatter indicated that her staff, which had not, in fact, traveled with her, met the floor. Her hair trailed after her in a gentle arc, following her descent.

The man, who had been entirely motionless when his own life was at stake, sprang up and oh-so-softly stopped her fall. Tenderly, he rose with her in his arms. Theodora's eyes fluttered open, lighted on his face and held his gaze unwaveringly while he set her back on her feet and bent to pick up her staff. Quietly, he ran his forefinger over the raw skin at her throat. Satisfied that it was not going to suffer any permanent damage, the man bent swiftly at the waist and departed.

Vader stood as if he was made of the metal that encased him. He watched his girl follow the man with her eyes wondering if she wanted to follow him with more than just a gaze.

The door closed.

And her eyes turned toward him.

Once, he had hoped that she would learn to show him everything that she thought. No, even more than that- he hoped she would _want_ to show him what she thought. Her vacant facial articulation proved him otherwise. The flames around her neck mocked him, framed elegantly by a chain that bore his insignia. What did that matter? Only her body was his, not her mind, not her thoughts, not her sight. Her actions were his. Her freedom was his. What did a pendant mean? Nothing when he could burn her body. Nothing when she didn't have to show him her anger. Nothing when she couldn't be forced to think or feel. Nothing when she had the very will to do nothing at all.

His hand shot forward and ripped the necklace from her neck, snapping the chain in two. Theodora did not even so much as flinch, though the pressure on her new wounds must have been shocking at the least.

"Why did you step in the way?" Vader thundered, looming over her in a way that had the bravest of men fall to their knees before him, "Why did you save his miserable life? Why do you make me hurt of the people? WHY DO YOU MAKE ME HURT YOU???" This was spinning out of control fast, if he didn't find a way to handle this situation- and fast- he could seriously hurt the girl or worse... then what would his own master do? Nothing, probably. Laugh.

The picture of the cruel face of Emperor Palpatine sneering down on the girl who had never done anyone any harm brought a new wave of anger and injustice. Why did everything have to fall on him? He was responsible for the girl- he proved that by having to save her over and over again- and for what? She obviously showed no gratitude! Nor did his master show any gratitude for countless hours of work.

The girl made no movement, showed no sign of even having heard him, though he couldn't imagine how- his helmet rang yet with the violence of his words. Disgusted and infuriated, he spat out the words, "Begone from my sight, whore!" and lashed out at her face. He turned on his heel and strode from the room without even knowing if he had hit her at all.

xXx

Hours later, after having taken every possible step to calm himself down, Vader sat at his desk, writing documents of import. As usual, his mind was not truly on his task, though his body performed its deeds flawlessly. He had sent the necklace to a nearby jeweler to have the chain fixed. He had decided to present it back to her as a way of apology and let her decide whether or not to wear it. As for the man, he was having him tracked down. After that, Vader would take it as it came. But for now, he would just do his work and wait for things to come to him. The absolute quiet in his rooms was amazing. It was usually this quiet, but today it seemed... stiller than usual.

A soft knock on the door reached his ear. He turned and beckoned in a tiny old woman bearing a small package. It was the necklace. He took the box, shoved an unknown amount of money at the woman and bid her to leave. She did so quickly.

Vader held the package tenderly in his ungraceful hands for a long time- work completely forgotten. He steeled himself taking a few breaths as deeply as possible and stood. His heart felt as if it was in his throat. He stood at her door for a time long enough that the world could have collapsed around him and he would still have been there, not that he would have cared, of course. Amazing how he could be the destroyer of world and yet reaching out three feet to touch a door was the most impossible task in the universe.

Finally, and with great trepidation, he extended his arm and knocked on the door calmly.

No answer, but then, he hadn't really expected one. He opened the door anyway.

It only took him a few seconds to see that the tiny room was completely devoid of human life. That_ was anticlimactic,_ thought Vader, closing the door behind him. No matter, he'd find her somewhere.

xXx

An hour had passed... no sign of her in anywhere in their apartments. As a precaution, Vader had sent for a few people and asked them first, to alert others that she was missing and second, to search for her themselves. He waited nervously, fidgeting and sneaking frequent glances at clocks, doors and the package.

Three hours later and no sign.

Five hours later... and still no sign.

Six hours and his worst fears were confirmed:

She was gone.

xXx

A/N- OMG!!! This was so hard to write. I apologize and I hope this chapter wasn't too jumpy. The next chapter, I'm sorry to say, will probably be just as every bit as long in coming. Please Review, I love to hear from you all.

P.S. I am so completely evil and you have no idea.


	7. Chapter 7

Vader had to be honest with himself- he was responsible for her endangerment. By keeping her with him at all times, concerning himself with her welfare and scaring away anyone who might harm her, he had singled her out as the one way to bleed the heart on his sleeve. He knew what a tough world they were living in and he should have known better than to let it happen.

He allowed himself the luxury for a moment of self-chastisement and despair before forcibly returning his mind to the task at hand. His girl was missing and there wasn't anyone else who was going to find her. Well, except for the dozen or so privates he sent out to find her...

But they were all imbeciles.

No, he was going to have to find her the old-fashioned way: retracing her steps.

Dramatically, he snatched his cape form its resting place by the door and spun on his heel exiting the apartment. Now he stood alone in the hallway and realized something very important- he had no idea where she had gone. He swore to himself and looked either way at the depressingly lit emptiness. He didn't know if there was anywhere for her to go but the apartments, nor where she herself would have chosen to go. If he knew her, which he was starting to doubt, she would have gone somewhere quiet and out of the way to hide until he needed her again. Would she have known where such a place existed? Probably not. His guess is that she would have wandered around until she came across something of the like.

Armed with this information, he followed suit and randomly chose a direction to wander. He chose left.

xXx

He wandered for a long ways trying to get into the character of Theodora. He found this a very difficult undertaking since most of the time, he had no clue what she was thinking about. He made a brave attempt at trying to be inconspicuous, but one can imagine how well that worked. He walked as close to the wall as possible, trying to ignore how loud his armor was and avoiding any place that housed a lot of people or seemed too noisy.

After a while, he supposed that she would have been tired of walking and so he proceeded to look around for a place that she would have rested. He was outside now on a relatively calm side street coming up to a plaza. Nothing on this street leapt out at him as a hideaway for Theodora, however he wondered if she would have braved the plaza. He, himself, had few problems with it- the only being that he would attract a lot of stares. Theodora, on the other hand, would be far more inconspicuous, but also more timid. Maybe. Vader shrugged. He had guessed his way here with no indication whatsoever that he might even be remotely close to her approximate vicinity so he might as well keep going.

The plaza was so bright after the shade of the side street that Vader physically took a step backwards and lifted a hand to his eyes. Slowly, fuzzy shapes of buildings and people emerged from the white glare of sun and assembled themselves into order. Eyes swimming, he looked left and right, gathering his surroundings. A dark shape loomed before him. He peered at it, squinting to make it out. It was a large stone building with wide steps and great glass doors. A sign out front was also made of stone, but Vader was too far away to see what it said. He approached, still blinking furiously, until he made out the only two words on the sign. "Public Library."

xXx

A half hour of sitting in the library hadn't improved his outlook of finding her, but it had made him miss teaching her how to read. The number three swam before eyes that couldn't cry. Being close to her favorite number (by strolling up and down the aisle of that quantity) at least made him feel close to her. He looked up and down the aisle. Assured that no one would see, he removed his black gauntlets and picked up the book in front of him. He didn't care what it was about, he just wanted to leaf through the pages and feel the paper. It was one of the few joys his skin could still give him.

On most days, the texture of paper would relax his mind and help him to think or to meditate, but these were not normal circumstances. His mind insisted that he was wasting precious time here and he was becoming less and less pleased with the sight of his hands next to the perfect text. Sighing darkly, he put the book back and covered his hands. He was unable to think of where Theodora would have gone next. He had harbored hope that she would still be hiding in the library, but a quick scan of the area didn't detect her presence.

Resigned to leaving, Vader made for the door, pausing only once to look back at the cast-iron '3' screwed onto the end of the bookshelf. It looked crooked. Looking left and right again, he reached up to straighten the number. It came off in his hand.

Shit.

Hurridly, he tried to put it back, but stopped. Behind the number was a small circular recess just large enough for the tiny scroll of paper that protruded from the polished wood. Carefully, he took it out and set the number on a shelf. Trying not to tear the scroll, Vader unrolled it and read it.

Shit.

xXx

Consulting his watch, Darth Vader now saw that his appointment was half an hour late. The bar was dark, smoky and dirty- three things that did not make Vader any happier to be there. He could practically feel the grime slowing down his machinery...

Abruptly, a man in dark brown clothes took the seat opposite him. In a voice that was obviously modified, he ordered something strong and bitter from the tired waitress and swallowed it in three gulps. Then he stood and walked away in a manner that was obviously intended for Vader to follow. Vader noted that he tipped the waitress handsomely.

The man in brown led him up the stairs of the bar to the rooms. They walked together down a dimly lit hall into the very last room on the left. The man in brown held open the door for Vader. It was inky black inside, not even the dismal light from the hall lamps touched the inside of the room. Vader entered exhibiting more confidence than he felt, though he had the sneaking suspicion that the man in brown knew it was an act.

Once the man himself entered and closed the door, it was as black as space. Not even the Artificial Vision Enhancers in Vader's helmet could help this emptiness. Vader listened to the man rummage around the room. He struck a match and lit two waiting tapers on either side of a table. The table, with tapers, was in the approximate middle of the room. The meager light wasn't enough to illuminate the entire room. What he saw in the puddle of light was enough, though.

Bound to a chair and gagged with cloth was Theodora. She wore the expression Vader had seen every day of the time they were together- blank, unemotional, impassive. From what he could see, she didn't look mistreated. Perhaps a little paler than normal, but then again, Vader couldn't remember a time when candlelight had ever made anyone look rosier. Theodora did not even aknowledge his existence, but stared vacantly into space. It was like her "self" had left her body there to seek refuge elsewhere. Vader's eyes returned to the man, who now showed his face.

The man's face was covered in scars. One eye looked as if it had lost the ability to see. Despite his roush life, though, this man was old enough to have earned a receding hairline and probably a bald patch in the thicket of light brown hair. His eyes were piercingly dark. This man wore the unmistakable markings of a bounty hunter.

"Milord Vader," said the man in a voice that had smoked too much, "do you know why you are here?"

"I know not," replied Vader stiffly, self-consciously aware of the rattle of his chest box.

The man grinned lopsidedly, revealing several replaced teeth and a slightly-off-center humor that labeled him 'dangerous' more so than the scars. "You have been neglecting your work. Many meetings with... important and powerful men missed... they are angry with you... my master is angry with you... He sent me to find the cause of your... indolence. Look what I found." At these last words he trailed a gnarled finger up the white jaw of the bound girl. Vader suppressed a shudder. Theodora didn't even blink.

The man straightened and continued, "My orders are clear. Your punishment is in order." Very matter-of-factly, the man reached into his brown robes and pulled out a gun; a simple, old-tech, no-lazers gun. Calmly, he pointed this gun at Theodora's left temple.

"I believe you know the way this technology works: any attempt to wrest the gun from me by Force and all of our lives are forfeit. Is there anything you would like to say to her?" For the first time, Theodora's eyes flickered. They still refused to look at anything, but their slight movement had betrayed the fact that she was actually listening.

Vader could only stare. This was too sudden. He should have prepared for this event, but who in the hell knew where this man had found an actual pistol? Those things were so temperamental...

His eyes took in Theodora. He thought of all the things he should say and all the things he wanted to say and none of them seemed appropriate for death- only life and while part of his mind still searched for a way out, the other knew it was futile.

CRACK

The man had cocked the hammer of the gun. "I'm a busy man: time is running out, Darth Vader. Choose your words carefully."

Vader knew he meant it. How many more seconds did that give him? Not enough.

Never enough.

"I..." What could he say that would sum up everything?

"I love you."

The report of the gun was deafening. It even drowned out the noise of Vader's breathing for several seconds afterward.

He had closed his eyes. He hadn't even been able to bear watching it.

The man approached him and held out a letter. "This is for you. I'll be off now."

Vader didn't even give him a second thought.

The letter was simple and to-the-point.

"That was fun. Get back to work. –Palpatine"

xXx

A/N- Please Review.


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